Silence
by Oldach's Dream
Summary: Silence from that night rang in my ears. It was deafening. Silence is the sound of death. A oneshot. Sirius’ POV the night the Potter’s are killed. Reedited for grammatical corrections.


**Story Title**: Silence

**Author**: Oldach's Dream

**Genre**: Angst

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter came from the mind of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing.

**Summary**: Silence from that night rang in my ears. It was deafening. Silence is the sound of death. A oneshot. Sirius' POV the night the Potter's are killed. Re-edited for grammatical corrections.

A/N: For some reason this story has been getting a lot of hits recently. I thank you all for that, by the way. Since this was one of the first fanfics I ever wrote – the first one I ever posted at all. actually – I know it had a lot of mistakes. I usually leave my stories as they are – even if I know there are errors – so I can go back later and see how much I've improved. But, since this one's getting attention as of late, I decided to do some editing. Hope you enjoy!

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Silence scares me.

I can deal with screams, shouts, cries of terror and defeat. Pathetic whimpering, calls for mercy and that inhuman laughter that, all too often, accompanies a final curse. Disturbing as it is, those sounds are familiar. They're the sounds of battle, the sounds of fighting - fighting to kill or fighting to stay alive - you screamed just the same.

My parents always fought. I'd go to sleep as a boy with the sounds of their harsh - often alcohol induced - words ringing through my mind. The closest thing to a bedtime story you'd ever find in the Black household.

Remus made sounds when he changed into a werewolf, all those nights under the Whomping Willow. The Shrieking Shack filled with the echoes of his agonized moans. You could hear his bones break and reform to fit the wolf's structure. You could hear the rips and tears, the scratching, biting and gnawing. The howls of the wolf reverberated through the forest and could be heard miles off; and if you listened hard enough you could make out the triumphant barks of a dog and the protective stomps of a stag.

Those were the sounds of freedom, the animalistic cries of life. We all longed to live, every second we were in that forest we were bursting with life and energy. We were in-tune with nature, connected by the sounds of the other creatures, the smells of the trees and the feel of the wind. We were truly free.

Hogwarts was always loud. Whether it be the excited yammering of hundreds of students in the Great Hall or the angry cries and victorious cheers that accompanied a Quidditch match. Noise constantly filled the Gryffindor common room, and if it didn't, the Marauders were always there to change that.

Some called it obnoxious, how loud we could be. James always shook it off, told everyone to lighten up. Remus would shake his head and not say anything, unwilling to admit that he agreed that we _were _often too obnoxious. Peter would look frantically between us, calculating in his rat- like manner who to side with, who was least likely to lose. I simply made more noise. I didn't mind being the center of attention like Remus did. I couldn't care less what the others thought of me, unlike Peter.

James would always cheer me on, but he didn't really understand. Silence scared me too much for me to ever stop making noise. It's why I never spent time in the library. It's why I opened my window every night, even if I had to learn complicated spells to keep the cold out but let the noise in. I learned how to put an invisible, soundproof, shield around my bed in first year. How to cast a charm to make music play all night long, second year. No one else knew that I did this, they wouldn't understand.

Silence is what's left over when everything else is gone. It can fill a room with its presence and slowly suffocate everyone and everything around it until there's nothing left. A moment of silence can do more damage than a lifetime of words. Silence eats away at you until all you have left are nightmares and dreams, hopes and memories, truths and lies. Nothing real can be forged in silence, nothing real exists there.

Soothing words or harsh insults, both were comforting to me. Both meant that I was there, that I was alive.

Silence is the sound of death.

I faced silence again only hours ago, at James and Lily's house. A house that, not two nights ago, had been filled with the sweet sounds of a home. The air had been thick with laughter and chatter, friendly debates laced with the smell of homemade stew, creating the aroma of comfort. Mixing in happily were the small yet heart wrenching sounds of my Godson, who, at a year old, had already captured the hearts of so many.

Harry had suffered so much tonight. What saddened me most was that he would never remember what he'd had, what he'd lost. What had been stolen from him.

I saw the Dark Mark first. How could I not? It had been visible from blocks away. Still, as I ran to reach it, I prayed that it was over a different house. That someone else's life had just been destroyed.

I reached the door and still I tried to believe that this was not really happening, it was a Halloween prank. Halloween had always been James' favorite time of year; he always had an unnatural obsession with frightening people.

He would be waiting for me on the other side of the door, with Moony and Wormtail, ready to tell me that he'd only been trying to lighten the mood set by recent events. He would be feeling humble, for surely Remus had already scolded him, informed him that it was not at all humorous to lead your friends to believe that you were killed. Especially when the greatest Dark Lord who ever lived happened to want you dead, and we had just switched Secret Keepers. Surely James would have realized what that implied to me. Surely this was not really happening.

Silence engulfed me as soon as I stepped foot in the doorway. I knew right away that it was over. That I had failed. That, by trying to protect them, I had killed two of the best people I had ever known. I had killed the Potter's.

I didn't need to see their bodies, slumped on the ground. Cold and unmoving. I didn't need to see them, but still, there was no one there to keep me from looking.

James was closer to the door of the nursery, his body spread out against the remains of a table that looked as if it had taken most of the impact when a curse had sent him sailing into it.

I could picture him fighting. Struggling to protect his wife and son. That's what James did, he was the protector. The one who had always looked out for us. The stag leading our herd against the dangers of the forest, keeping us safe.

James had been a legendary trouble maker at Hogwarts, one of the Marauder's, sure to be talked about for generations to come. We had made sure that we would be remembered. He'd been brilliant too, truly brilliant when it came to many things. His practical reasoning had gotten us out of more scrapes than it was possible to count. He helped me fill the silence. He was our backbone and we all needed him.

It hadn't surprise me when he was the first to get married. Not just because it was Lily, the girl he'd been obsessed with for years. James had the biggest heart of anyone I'd ever met. He was the polar opposite of everything I had grown up knowing. When Lily had announced her pregnancy I knew right away that her son would be one of the luckiest children to ever live. To grow up with Lily and James as parents, there would be nothing this kid couldn't do.

James would have died to protect them.

James did die to protect them.

James was dead.

His body lay near inches away from me; I could reach out and touch it.

James was dead.

I had to keep saying it over and over in my head. It didn't feel real. I wanted so desperately for it not to be real. I knew it was, but I couldn't feel it. Everything around me was fuzzy. The silence was disorienting me, closing in around me, suffocating me.

I tried to get away, to go get help. I knew that's what I needed to do. James was dead. James….

I turned instead towards Lily.

My stomach clenched simultaneously with my heart, creating a sensation that made me want to cry and vomit at the same time. I knew James was dead, I had sensed it lurking behind the silence, but I hadn't seen it. James had been facing the wall. I could see only his head of messy black hair.

Lily was facing the door. She was looking at me. Her eyes were still wide. Her face and posture showed signs of fear and desperation. But her eyes were as dead as she was. It didn't seem right; Lily's eyes were always so alive. The great green orbs constantly sparkled, conveying every emotion she felt, clear as day. Whether it be adoration for her son, love for her husband, annoyance with me or fear that they all might end up dying in this war….

I found myself on my knees in front of her lifeless form. I don't remember dropping to the ground before her; I know it didn't make a sound.

I couldn't tear my gaze away from her eyes. I saw in those depthless orbs what I had always felt in silence; death. The end. Something we could not reverse.

Lily…

I wanted so desperately to say her name out loud. Maybe simply by breaking the silence I could bring her back to life. Undo what I had done to her and James.

Maybe if I could overcome the silence, I could bring the Potter family back to life. I knew of course that I couldn't, I couldn't make them alive again; but I also couldn't rise from my knees. Couldn't leave that spot on the floor. I couldn't make myself glance at the tiny bundle of blankets in Lily's arms; I could not yet comprehend what that would mean.

I felt as if every one of my limbs weighed a great deal more than it should, and I could still not tear my eyes away from Lily's. I was having a staring contest with a dead Lily Potter, and she was winning.

James and Lily are dead.

I felt eternally trapped in this moment. I couldn't leave my friends; I needed to be with them. Needed to see them, even if the vision was skewed and disturbingly wrong. It would be the last time I would ever have with them. I was unaware of the rest of my body, simply existing to be with Lily and James.

I felt eternally trapped in this moment. I had to leave this house. It was no longer the home of Lily and James Potter; it was the most recent murder scene of Lord Voldemort. I had to go get help, had to explain about Peter. My body felt heavy and literally rooted to the spot. I could not move.

Lily and James were dead.

My eyes stung painfully, and I couldn't tell if it was from the effort of keeping them open, unwilling and unable to blink. I could not lose sight of Lily. Or were they tears? Was I crying for my dead friends? Did I have the right? It was my fault they were dead. I did it; I gave them to Peter. I practically handed them to Voldemort myself.

Peter had betrayed them. Peter Pettigrew, our friend, he was working for Voldemort. Wormtail was a traitor. But it was still my fault they were dead.

The silence throughout that room created some sort of a barrier that kept the real world far away that night. Time was inconsequential; I was alone with the dead bodies of the Potter family. I could have been in that nursery for hours. It could have been mere seconds. I'll never know. It doesn't matter.

James was dead. Lily was dead. Harry…. baby Harry. My Godson. He was….

Breaking the silence.

My heart leapt to my throat as I heard the tiny baby gurgle admit from the mass of blankets still clutched in Lily's cold, dead arms. It was as if he sensed my presence and knew he needed to tell me that he was still alive.

I became aware of myself once again and slowly lifted my arm out to the now squirming bundle of blue fabric. Blinking rapidly I moved one of the blankets to reveal Harry's tiny face, looking up at me with trust and innocence. His face was now scarred, however. An ugly gash marred the fine, baby skin of his forehead. A lightning bolt shaped scar. A cursed scar.

A scar that would forever remind him of the demon that had taken his parents away from him.

His parents were dead.

Quickly, in one fluid motion, I reached out and took my Godson away from Lily's body. It wasn't Lily anymore.

Lily was dead. James was dead. I was all Harry had left. I had killed his parents.

Too quiet. Everything was too quiet. I had to get out of there. Had to flee before the Death Eaters came back to finish what Voldemort had started.

'What did you do to him, little guy?' I wanted to say out loud to Harry, to reassure him that I was here for him. That I wouldn't leave. But the silence was all consuming. I had to get us out of there.

I don't remember walking through the house to the front door. I can't remember how long I stood on the front lawn, trying to figure out what to do next. All I know for sure is that the silence followed me from the nursery, where I had just been on my knees in front of Lily's body, to that front lawn, where I stood with Harry, unable to figure out what to do next.

The next sound I heard was Hagrid's voice. Telling me in no uncertain terms that I was to hand my Godson over to him so he could go live in the Muggle world. That Dumbledore wanted him to grow up with Lily's sister and husband. Be raised by Muggles.

Hagrid took him out of my arms before I had a chance to object.

But that was okay; I knew what I needed to do now.

I let Hagrid take my motorcycle; the faster he got to Dumbledore, the better. I wanted Harry to be safe. He wouldn't be safe with me.

Everyone knew I had been their Secret Keeper. They would think I was the traitor.

I killed them.

Silence from that night rang in my ears. It was deafening.

I don't really remember the rest of that night. I'll replay it in my head; see it happen over and over again, for years and years to come. But I don't know that yet. All I know is that I wanted Peter to die the way James and Lily had died. To suffer the way Harry would surely suffer from not having his parents throughout his life.

I trapped him on a street corner in the middle of Muggle London. His begging and pleading was all lost on me. All I could hear was the ringing silence.

He got away. I got captured. And thirteen innocent people ended up dead. Thirteen dead bodies lined the street that Halloween. But fifteen died when you added the Potter's. Sixteen if you count Peter, who everyone believes to be dead.

Pathetic little rodent.

I was in Azkaban that same night.

One Halloween night, I lost three of my best friends, my Godson and my freedom. Peter Pettigrew destroyed everything, and then got away. No one believed me, I was a criminal, a madman. The traitor.

I killed Lily and James.

These thoughts were eating away at me, the dementors were using them to kill me. Out of desperation I turned into Padfoot. The giant black dog, the grim; the symbol of death. I felt my mind my clear slightly.

Everything would be okay. I backed into a corner of my cell and tried not to feel surrounded. I would get out. I would prove my innocence and kill Peter. Everything would be okay; as long as I focused of the screaming. There was no silence here.

Everyone screamed in Azkaban.

Fin.


End file.
